


such a lovely color for you

by alolandugtrios



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Feral Behavior, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied abuse, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Tenderness, darkness curing light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alolandugtrios/pseuds/alolandugtrios
Summary: vanitas doesn't like that gleam in ventus' eyes -- or does he?





	such a lovely color for you

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to me i finished this finally. i wanted feral ven and this happened.

_You’re mine. No one will put their hands on you ever again — not **him** again. Never **him**. I wish he’d come back just so I could put him in the grave a second time. _

A pure heart of _light_ — why does it feel so murky now?

No one is taking you away from me again — no one! I dare them to try. I **dare** them to try…

_Why do I feel like I’m drowning?_

The shift is sudden.

One moment, Ventus is lovingly latched to his darkness as he does every night. Vanitas is surprised when a tender hold suddenly becomes Ven’s nails digging into his back, the tips of his fingers boring roughly into his skin through his shirt. Welcome as the dull pain is, he can’t help but feel it’s out of place for Ventus. 

A heart of light; the purest soul Vanitas knows. He’s got quite the grip for being such a pushover at times. 

Ven’s teeth clench, his chin resting against Vanitas’ shoulder. Blue eyes narrow fiercely, as if to snipe anyone who should even come so close as to stare — not that anyone is staring at the two boys to themselves in Ven’s room. 

Vanitas’ body relaxes under harsher touches; an unfortunate side effect to being so accustomed to lashes and welts. But coming from Ventus of all people, it’s questionable. Typically so keen on warm hugs, gentle kisses — things that make Vanitas scoff and _churn_ at the stomach at until they’re actually done and he’s _melted_ in the blond’s hands. This shift doesn’t bode well and the familiar feeling of dread begins to weigh Vanitas’ chest.

He’s more difficult to pry off than normal, but Vanitas is able to adjust so that he can look Ven eye to eye — and _oh_, what kind of eyes are those? Those wide-eyed blue pearls never looked more narrow and piercing than ever before. 

“Ventus…” His name is purred tauntingly, so much like the times he would challenge the boy. Vanitas’ lips curl into that dangerous smile he loves to wear. He places his hands on either side of Ven’s hips, prompting the blond to shift slightly against Vanitas’ lap so he can comfortably straddle him. “What’s going on in that sweet little mind of yours?” 

The light makes what only sounds like a growl (a _cute_ attempt, Vanitas thinks) and tightens his grip against Vanitas’ back where he was unable to pull Ven’s hands away from just prior. That growl comes back, and upon listening closer, Vanitas can faintly make out just one word —

_”Mine.”_

“Am I?” Vanitas chuckles with a dark amusement, hand raising to cup Ven’s cheek where his thumb grips and molds to Ven’s jawline. 

Ven makes no hesitation — he meant what he said, despite the near inaudibility of his word. He turns his head towards Vanitas’ hand without breaking eye contact. Pouted lips bury into the other boy’s palm where he presses against it with a surprisingly gentle kiss, all while his eyes sharply gaze back into Vanitas’. Fun as he is to taunt, Vanitas knows this feeling all too well — and it’s never one to emanate from Ventus.

“Good answer,” he retorts, neither serious nor sarcastic. He sighs through his nose and groans, thumb sliding down and pulling against Ven’s bottom lip. Faint snarls can be heard, reigniting Vanitas’ little grin. “_Ventus_.” Another purr of his name. Another taunt Ven adores. “Unlike me to care, but tell me — how are you _feeling_ right now?” 

Ven’s strong will has yet to falter. He stares back into those golden eyes — once feared, but now cherished and admired. Without moving Vanitas’ thumb from his lip, he cracks back a “Fine.” A blunt lie that Vanitas sees right through. Ven’s hands finally release Vanitas’ back from its confines of nails, now trapping Vanitas’ face on either side… 

And gods, he’s _warm_. Vanitas’ heart skips a beat, anticipating Ven’s next move to be dragging his nails into the skin of his cheeks now. But he’s tender, he’s _gentle_ — as light should be. But Ven’s light doesn’t envelope Vanitas as it usually does. It’s there. It’s always there and will always be there, but in being no stranger to darkness — in fact, darkness _himself_ — Vanitas can feel the blackened tides, sees the light shining dimmer in those ocean blue eyes he’s come to sickeningly adore. 

“Don’t lie to me, Ventus.” A growl, a _command_. He watches Ven. Watches his throat tighten before it bites down and swallows the gall it had to fight back. For once, Vanitas would rather not fight. In a way, Ven’s edges sharpening like this it — dare he say? Concerns him. 

Calloused fingers now pry at Ven’s mouth, opening him up without so much as a protest— just that narrow, penetrating stare that is starting to grate on Vanitas the longer Ven wears it. His index presses against a sharp canine and he almost wishes Ven was feral enough to bite down and make it bleed. He damn sure looks the part right now.

Well. Ventus sure isn’t going to lie to Vanitas with his mouth pried open like this. Vanitas’ nostrils flare alongside a snide ‘hmph’ and he releases Ventus, who closes his mouth to keep his secrets to himself— not that Vanitas is going to accept that. 

“You still owe me a real answer.” He bites less in his words now. It’s a sweet coaxing, furthered by his hand delicately trailing Ven’s cheek and down his jawline. He’s really spent too much time with this boy — not that he would ever change it, nor admit that aloud.

Ven exhales sharply through his nose, hesitating before he breaks the gaze. In the moment it’s broken, his body tenses as the fire rises up within him again. The pressure of his teeth grinding from top to bottom nearly make him snarl, but to feel that gentle hand of darkness against his skin brings him back down. His body settles, his face leans in to the touch of darkness — the touch of his _lover_. 

But the fire lingers and stokes. 

“Don’t leave me.” 

Ven doesn’t beg. Ven doesn’t plead. His eyes go right back to that tapering, darkened gaze; the moment he locks them with Vanitas’ eyes again, he swears he’s bleeding at the head from the blue daggers penetrating him. 

That’s a _look_ — one he never wants to see on his face again. 

“Ventus—“

The blond’s teeth bare and he squirms in place, body shaking and wracking with rage, jealousy — _possession_. Vanitas’ eyes widen in a genuine shock, but it’s only half a second before giving his other a pointed look. He grabs blond locks at the back of his head, like a mother cat to her kitten. Firm enough to get him to stop squirming, but not so harsh as to hurt him. 

Gods, when did he get this soft?

“Ventus.” Again. 

But hearing his name does little to ground him back. Ven, with Vanitas’ face still cupped in his hands, begins to truly break. His sunny disposition twists, contorting to rage, to _pain_. Red with rage, growling with an anger that Vanitas still isn’t sure what trigger got pulled to start it. Is Ven angry at the tears that won’t seem to come? Is he angry at _Vanitas_? Has the hurt from years of torment, of _anguish_ — have they come together to conspire and set this heart of light awry? Vanitas can’t take it to watch his light come apart, watch him struggle to keep himself from lunging and lashing out against him — or worse, himself. Ventus is ready to fight if need be — fight for his other half, fight to be _whole_ once more. It hurts, it _hurts_, it **hurts**—

Vanitas knows that same pain, has had that same knife stab him at every turn in life.

It’s then that Vanitas feels the pressure of Ven’s hands pulling and pushing against his jaw; it feels _good_, almost, but it’s unlike him. Not the Ventus that Vanitas knows — the Ventus he _loves_. 

“_Ventus_.” A final time. Vanitas, firmly but calmly, grabs Ven’s hands to pull them from his face. Ven, though still more akin to a feral wolf right now, allows this. Vanitas doesn’t break eye contact and places Ven’s hands at his sides, but keeps his own at the ready to stop sudden movements the blond may make. “What has you thinking,” he whispers sincerely, index finger running beneath Ven’s chin tauntingly, _endearingly_. “That I will _ever_ leave your side?”

Ven nearly chokes taking a breath, but the red in his face simmers. Finally — some sort of breakthrough. “I-I…” He swallows, trying to wet his parched throat. “What if…someone takes you from me again? I-I can’t…” Vanitas sees the spark come back in Ven’s eyes — that ravenous, dangerous look. “You’re _mine_, Vanitas.”

The darkness scoffs, bemused, but more importantly _flattered_ that someone would ever want him, an outcast— an _incomplete_ being. Just a chess piece in a game that stalled out for far too long. The fact someone could ever be so _violently_ shaken at the thought of being ripped apart from _Vanitas_ of all people — and a _second_ time, in fact. Vanitas glances down to Ventus’ chest — where he came from — with lips pursed together. _Poor thing_. The light’s chest heaves up, down, up down — desperately trying to calm, but possession keeps claiming him, pulling at his heart like the claws looking to claim new blood. Vanitas silently watches each rise and fall, his palm taking rest at Ven’s cheek now.

“And you…are _mine_.” 

Words Vanitas thought would mellow Ventus out just seem to cause more ruckus. The light melts like ice into Vanitas’ warm palm, but that look in his eyes is still present and ever so _cruel_. 

“Mine…” Ventus repeats it like he can’t comprehend Vanitas ever wanting him when it’s all Vanitas ever has done, all he ever _wanted_. 

“Yes,” Vanitas assures, his free hand taking place at Ven’s other cheek. “Ventus… What you’re feeling — are you familiar with it?” The question is presented with a frown.

Ventus doesn’t provide an answer, only a glare as though his intelligence has been insulted.

“Possession, negativity — **darkness**.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Vanitas’ frown softens into a look that’s as peaceful as he can muster, his thumbs gently brushing the soft skin of Ven’s cheeks. “Ventus — my beloved.” Blue eyes widen; Vanitas never uses such soft, _intimate_ language. “Darkness…is such an _ugly_ color on you.”

Every pigment drains from Ventus’ face.

“You’re not meant to carry such feelings, Ventus.” Gently, against all his meaning and purpose for creation, the darkness brings his light closer; he feels his light suck in a breath, hears the hard swallow in his throat. “Allow me to take them away.” 

And Ven does. Allows for Vanitas to close their distance, to take and feed off the negativity that ravages his veins. Their kiss is firm, claiming — but with a tenderness that only darkness can give to light. Contrary to what is told in tales, the darkness _heals_, pulls those possessive, intrusive thoughts out of Ventus. Vanitas devours them, relishes in just how _delicious_ jealousy and ferocity tastes. But the meal doesn’t last as long as he would like. Soon, Ven is emptied of wickedness, too dazed to return affections. His body weakens and goes limp against Vanitas, who parts from their kiss to allow Ven the use of his body as a bed. 

A shame, Vanitas thinks, that such a sharp turn in Ven’s demeanor was attributed to an amount of possession that barely qualifies as a _snack_ to Vanitas.

Such a _little_ amount is all it takes to corrupt pure light…

Vanitas licks his lips, stroking Ven’s hair to ensure his comfort while he falls into a slumber. 

“Ventus.” As if on cue, the blond stirs and hums in his sleep. “You truly are…my light.”


End file.
